


Anthology of Prompts

by Nanenna



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-26 18:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9915164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanenna/pseuds/Nanenna
Summary: I enjoy doing short prompts, so here I'm archiving them.





	1. The Bluest Blue

**Author's Note:**

> A Fakiru prompt.

“The bluest blue to ever freaking blue.” 

Not the most dignified thought Fakir had ever had, certainly not even poetic (which was extremely embarrassing considering his chosen career), but it was the thought that dominated his mind when his eyes met the eyes of the slim girl freshening his coffee.

“Anything else for you tonight, sir?”

“Oh uh...” Fakir felt his face heat up as he looked down at his laptop’s keys, then over at his now full coffee and the half eaten sandwich sitting next to the aforementioned coffee and laptop. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Alrighty, if you need anything just let me know,” the waitress cheerily chirped before turning to go check on the next table, a long braid of brilliant, strawberry blond hair swaying behind her.

Fakir reached for his coffee as he looked back at the screen, trying to read over the last few words he had written. “I’ve never seen anything so… just so blue before,” his mind mutinously thought. Fakir stopped bothering with reading and reached for his sandwich, he had come here to get some food after all. As he thoughtfully chewed his eyes trailed after the waitress as she hurried towards the back, her impossibly blue eyes shining brightly. 

Fakir turned his attention back to his screen and frowned as he tried reading it again, tried to get back into the flow. His fingers had been racing over the keys just a moment ago, surely his inspiration wasn’t that fickle. The waitress had come back out of the kitchen, the coffee pot replaced with a small dish of ice cream as she and a couple other workers headed towards one of the other tables. Fakir grimaced, he hated the typical diner birthday songs. Didn’t they know the copyright on the quintessential birthday song had lapsed? Still, his eyes trailed after the small group as the waitress smilingly placed the ice cream before a rather embarrassed looking teenager and then started clapping and singing with her coworkers. Since her coworkers were both men her voice was easy to pick out, not to mention that she seemed far more enthusiastic than her coworkers.

Fakir crammed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and chewed furiously, then gulped his too hot coffee to help swallow the too big mass. With a glare at his screen he just started typing out what he could remember of his mental notes for the article. He’d go back and flesh it out on the rewrite. Still, even as he typed he was still aware that the waitress was laughing with one of her coworkers as she headed into the back again.


	2. Bluest Blue again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Fakiru prompt.

Ahiru rested her chin on her hands while staring happily at Fakir over their empty dinner plates, Fakir was just as happily staring right back. They both knew that shortly they’d have to get up, clear away their finished dinner, and start washing up, but that could wait a little while longer. For now it was nice to just sit and bask in each others’ presence. 

Ahiru dropped her hands down and leaned on her elbows as she smiled sweetly at Fakir. “Say something romantic.”

“Your eyes,” started Fakir, leaning subtly closer to Ahiru, “are so blue.”

Ahiru batted her long lashes at Fakir, “Tell me more.”

“The bluest blue to ever freaking blue.”

Ahiru clamped her hands over her mouth as she snorted and guffawed. “W-w-w-what?!”

“Just so… so very blue,” Fakir continued with a mischievous smirk.

“You’re a writer!” Ahiru protested loudly, though the offended attitude she was trying to portray was lost in her laughter. “You have a degree for being this great, literary man, and that’s the best you can come up with?”

Fakir leaned over their dinner plates and gently booped Ahiru’s nose, “I made you smile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I wrote the previous chapter this idea popped into my head and I like it about a bajillion times better.


	3. Swan Maiden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Ruetho ficlet.

The air was still, not a breath to ruffle the surface of the lake as it shimmered mirror like in the light of the full moon. The stillness was broken as a great, pure white swan skimmed along the water's surface before coming to rest on it, followed quickly by one then another and another until a whole flock of swans were elegantly arching their necks to consider their broken, wavering reflections in the disrupted lake's surface. Once they were all settled neatly on the lake the lead swan, marked by the tiny golden crown gracing its shapely head, led the flock to shore. It was not the lead swan, but one a bit further back that soon became excited and pulled its feathers off to reveal a pale haired maiden underneath. She eagerly splashed through the still knee deep water as she laughingly headed to the shore, dragging her shimmering feathered cloak through the water. The other swans followed suit, pulling off feathered cloaks to reveal smiling, laughing people of various sizes and shapes underneath, all carrying their feathered cloaks as they splashed ashore and climbed out of the lake and onto the sandy shore. Last of all was the lead swan, patiently waiting until the whole flock had left the lake and carefully laid out their cloaks over branch or bush or convenient boulder before removing his own feathers to reveal a handsome young man with soft, pearly hair and large, golden eyes.

The flock scattered, the people running off in pairs or small groups to crash through the woods or to race up and down the shore. Laughter rang throughout the lake and nearby woods as the flock spread out, then made their way back to the spot they had waded ashore. They all showed off their loot: fallen branches, drift wood, or other pieces of wood which were quickly piled up on the shore and lit to make a blazing bonfire. Then the flock gathered round the bonfire in a circle, linked hands, and started dancing. It started as a simple circling of the fire before they raised their voices in a haunting, ethereal melody and began adding twists and turns, spinning and trading places until the dance was a complex pattern, ever circling around the slowly dying fire.

When the sun's first rays gave rosy blush to the eastern sky the bonfire was dying down to cozy embers and the flock turned their feet back to the water. They eagerly pulled their feathered cloaks back over their bodies and floated back out to the lake's middle. Last of all was the lead swan, frantically searching along the shore for his cloak. It wasn't on the tree branch he had hung it over, it wasn't in the grass growing between the tree's roots, it wasn't anywhere to be found. The rest of the flock, gathered together in the deeper water, watched with growing dread as the young man ran to and fro as he searched high and low for his missing cloak.

The sound of footsteps caught his ear, he turned to find a maiden with her dark hair curling becomingly about her pale face, over her shoulders, and down her back with eyes like rubies: glittering, red, and sharp enough to cut. Clutched desperately in her hands was a cloak made of shimmering, white feathers.

The flock took to the skies while the lone swan stared woefully at the maiden who held his cloak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really a prompt, but since it's a one off I decided to just put it here. Of all the characters to do the swan maiden/selkie tale with, Ruetho seems the most appropriate. But those tales always make me sad, the relationships feel so forced and abusive, so I won't be developing this idea further.


End file.
